


Life Imitates Art Imitating Life

by trethlus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Batman rumors, Dylan read our fanfics, Imported Fic, M/M, Oneshot, So did Tyler H, Spiderman rumors, real life fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trethlus/pseuds/trethlus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The set of a TV show can be magical. Because, when fantasy meets reality, they intervene and co-create life's most interesting moments. Soon, the camera is non-existent, and we just- live.</p><p>Ch1. Slight jealousy leads to a heartfelt goodbye on set. Or where Tyler is Batman, and Dylan just loves the serendipity of it all.<br/>Ch2. Fanfics get in the way of training for a role.<br/>Ch3. A sticky rumor leads to a late night call for help.<br/>Ch4. Dylan vents at the batting cages.<br/>Ch5. Everyone’s planning to come out the closet. And Tyler hates doing dishes, but he loves Dylan more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble on Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan learned some news before Tyler was able to tell him. I guess Stiles' insecurities transcend the fourth wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on ff.net and transferred it here. This WAS my first and only Oneshot (so far) and Ioved it. It was posted August 21, 2013, around the time of Hoechlin batman rumors.
> 
> Edit:  
> And then Chapter 2 happened. ugh. No longer a one-shot.

"That's a wrap for the night! Strike the set, and don't forget to pull the green screens down carefully! The budget can't take another ripped background!," one of the production managers shouted about the hallways.

The handyman started running around, tools in hand, as the sun is about to rise outside the building. The loft is unbelievably warm from the lights shining the stage. And the bed sheets, well- it definitely seen better days.

Tyler was cracking his back and stretching his arms. The fake bruises, cuts, and other wounds were still intact after the heavy scene he just filmed. He waved goodbye to his scene partner as he walked, fully bare, to his robe.

"Looks like you had fun," a familiar voice rang behind him.

Tyler turned around and saw Dylan, script and coffee in one hand, and another coffee and a tablet in another. The lanky boy eyed Hoechlin up and down and just gave him the biggest smile.

"Like what you see?," Hoechlin bragged.

"You act like I haven't seen you half-naked and sweaty in the past 24 hours," Dylan said, walking up close for a chaste kiss.

"Mmmmm. Want a little actor's secret? I was trying to remember how it felt making love with you, throughout this entire scene. Remind me again how amazing that felt…," Tyler mumbled into those lips.

After the shortest public make out session ever, Tyler finally let go of Dylan and took his robe off his folding chair to cover his huge problem, *ahem* down below. "Please tell me one of those coffees are mine," he begged.

"Black, two teaspoons of sugar, and the smallest scoop of protein powder. I'm still pretty convinced that you're not supposed to mix that in there, but it's your call, Der," Dylan replied.

Tyler chuckled, accepting the drink. "You just called me Der again. We're not them you know."

"Oh, but my dear Sourwolf… we practically are. You know I still talk miles a minute. And you are still my Alpha outside the script. Our fans still think we're perfect for each other. And I agree, 100,000%."

Tyler rolls his eyes and chuckles. "You've been reading the fanfics again…"

"Do you have anything against them?," Dylan asks.

"Of course not. I'm flattered that they actually pair us together without them knowing we're- y'know, US." Tyler pauses. "It's just… You get these crazy ideas of adding them into the show and I'm pretty sure Jeff is Stiles'd out by your suggestions by now."

Dylan just raises his eyebrow in response.

Which gets a growl in response from Tyler. "I hate it when your sexy eyebrows just get to me."

They kiss some more as their coffees cool down, forgotten in their hands.

* * *

Tyler soon pulls away from the kiss, like he got shocked by a tazer. "Wait a minute. The next scene involves me, the wolf pups, and water. You're not in that scene. What are you doing here? Is there anything wrong?"

Dylan's lower lip trembles. "Well, I just really missed you. So I thought I'd bring you coffee, so I went downtown to that-"

"Dylan."

"Okay fine, that was a lie. I just read this cutest fanfic where I was turned into a kid and everyone bought me clothes and fed me-"

"Dylan."

"Oh, and there was this other one where I was selectively mute because I had the ability to force anyone to do whatever I say, but Creepy Peter found out so-"

"STILES!"

"OKAY FINE!," Dylan shouted, slightly blushing. "You got me. You know me too damn well." The pale boy stared down to his lukewarm coffee cup and the tablet.

Tyler caressed his cheek and raised it, to look him in the eye. "I still can't read your mind. Tell me," he whispered cautiously.

Even though he's not a wolf, he could feel the fear coming off Dylan in waves, the boy's eyes searching his own frantically for a sign of safety. "I've been reading the message boards."

"Oh boy." _Nothing good ever came from that_ , Tyler thought.

"Why didn't you tell me you got offered a screen test for Batman?"

"What?"

"It says so right here," Dylan says offering the tablet. The website clear and plain with a picture he had taken the month before.

"My agent told me about that. I was on a list with 8 other people. It's a screen test, but it'll also interfere with shooting the show. I have a contract here," he explains.

"Yeah, but people can work around that. Other actors had it done before." Dylan took Tyler's hand softly.

"This is a big thing, Tyler, Der-bear. I mean, Stiles loves Batman. And I-" Dylan gulps. "I love you. That has to be the biggest slap in the face that fate has ever given two actors in love. Art imitating life and all that."

Tyler just looks into Dylan's eyes, confused. "So… So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying why aren't you jumping on this train like fur on a werewolf? I took that movie deal for next year. What is stopping you from going after yours?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Stiles. I mean, Dylan."

Dylan just stares dumbfounded. It took him 7 seconds, one of the longer times he has ever been quiet, to respond. "Uh uh, no. Broody McBroodyPants will not work here. Tell me."

"No," Tyler lets go of Dylan's hand.

A moment passes, before Dylan grabs Tyler's hand again. "Tell me… please?"

"I can't mmhmuhmuhm," Hoechlin mumbles.

"What?"

"I can't mmhmhum huu."

"Der, I know I ramble but it isn't fair that I do all the talking in this relationshi-"

"I can't RISK losing you!"

Tyler looks at Dylan with his hurt lost eyes, pretty much the ones you see in the show. Life truly imitated art. Because, who knew that Tyler was just as insecure as Derek was?

"You… *sigh* you are the best thing there is about this show, Stiles, I mean, Dylan, I mean *ugh* whatever, you know what I mean!

But, you are going into bigger things, movie deals, writing lines for some episodes- your character's the one who constantly saves the day! My character screws up all the time, with Scott, with Isaac and Boyd, and most importantly, with not recognizing how amazing you- your character is.

But *I* know. I know you more than I know myself sometimes. You believe in me. You make me laugh, and honestly, half the time, it's you who makes the show awesome."

Dylan didn't know how to reply to that. "I-"

Tyler raises his hand. "No, let me finish.

This is a screen test, I get it. I now have a better chance at this role than the other guys in my age bracket. But what if I don't get it, Dylan? What if this Alpha wolf role is all I'll ever be?"

Tyler's eyes start to dampen with tears.

"What if this show, an- and you will be the best and last thing in my life? The world is your oyster! The ball is on your court! The bases are loaded and your primed for a home run! How can I hold you back from what's left for you? I know that I can never be good enough fo-"

*SLAP!*

Dylan's eyes are red from their own tears. He shakes his finger at Tyler's face, with the offending hand that tried to slap some sense into the older actor.

"Y-yo-you stop it right now, Tyler Hoechlin! Now I know these fanfics get crazy sometimes, but they are pretty damn right about one thing:

That you are a SELFISH BRAT!"

Tyler was shocked.

"How dare you think that?!," Dylan adds. "You are amazing and hot and sexy and smart and amazing! And, yes I know I said amazing twice, I'll say it again *AMAZING*.

Amazingly stupid sometimes too! How do you get to freaking DECIDE if you're not freaking good enough for me?! Have you looked in a goddamn mirror?! I'm the one who's all bones compared to you!

You know what, screw that! I love you, Tyler Hoechlin! I don't even care what my insecurities say! You are trying out for that Batman role and I am not talking to you until you get your freaking mind straight!"

Dylan starts to stand up, adjusting what had been something –um pleasurable?, before continuing on his tirade.

"*YOU* don't get to choose whom I love! You don't even- GODDAMMIT! I can't even- UUUGHH!," Dylan screams as he walks away.

"So what?! Is this us saying goodbye, Stiles?," Tyler shouts after the departing teen. His eyes are red. His knuckles are white. He's growling, fighting hard not to run after the teen that obviously needed his space.

"No, Derek," Dylan answers, turning around to face him. "I don't know what this is. You freaking tell me what *this* is in the morning. All I know is that my name *isn't* Stiles.

It's Dylan. And if you cannot want to be Batman, well, Stiles says "Fuck you" too."

He storms out of the set to cool down.

All you could hear was Tyler's ragged breathing, and the handymen working hard to fix what was broken. Of the set, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfics Dylan mentioned, OMG they were so awesome. Please review my oneshot. I don't think I can add another chap to this. I don't know what will happen next.
> 
> P.S. Do you still wish Tyler will be Batman?


	2. Endurance Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot gained another chapter. (And one last on the way.) Needed a break from Groundhog Year and Jordan.
> 
> The private actor's gym for TW had a couple of late-night trainees.

“Can I squeeze in a few sets?,” a tall man asks by the pullup bars.

“Sure,” the other not-so-lanky one snips, grunting to four more reps of his own.

Dylan drops down and stretches his arms, trying to catch his breath. A sheen of sweat covers his torso as his workout of the day is catching up to him. He decidedly does NOT look in the direction of the man taking up the pull up bars, as he counts down his rest period before having to jump in again.

...Two alternating sets in, the silence gets to him, though.

“I thought I'll never see you here again, Tyler.” Dylan spits out.

Tyler's jaw tightens, and keeps on going. “I still have to keep in shape if I want an acting gig in a movie, Stiles.”

“I told you, my name is Dylan, Der- ***cough*** Tyler,” Dylan recovers.

Tyler drops down and grabs his shaker, half-full of recovery. “Hard habit to break,” he sneaks in between gulps of air. “Plus, it suits you.”

“I can't keep living that fantasy, Tyler. Especially, publicly,” Dylan replies knowingly, jumping up for his last set of pull-ups.   
“We've-”   
“-all got-”  
“-roles-”  
“-to play.”

And they continue on in silence. They have to be apart. That's what management wants. That's what the higher ups say. They have to survive. Even though it hurts.

 _And, oh God, how it hurts_ , Tyler thinks. 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They finish pull ups round the same time.

“What's next for you?,” Tyler asks.

“Incline bench presses, 6 sets of 15,” Dylan answers.

“Six sets?,” the other replies, surprised.

“I'm gonna be hanging off of a lot of places this next season. They're maximizing endurance and keeping bulk at the same time,” Dylan replies.

“Need a spotter?,” Tyler offers.

Dylan mulls it over, before agreeing.

They takes turns, trying not to look at what is painfully obvious. The positions that they're in brings back fond memories of nights, that have to be saved for later. The -ahem- tension is growing in the pants- I mean room, as they push through the sets.

Nearing the last set, Dylan laughs out loud out of nowhere.

“What?,” Tyler asks.

“Nothing.”

“It's never nothing, Stiles.”

Dylan rolls his eyes; he can't get enough of his nickname.

“I was on the fanfic sites-”

“You're always on the fanfic sites.”

“I said, I was on the fanfic sites. And this one fanfic got me hot and bothered.”

“What kind of fanfic was it?”

“A Sterek one.”

“Of course. It always is,” Hoechlin scoffs.

“It started off the same way it did today,” Dylan answers, pumping more off his set. “Us huffing between sets, and sweaty from the exhaustion.”

“Oh really?,” Tyler smiles.

Dylan notices Hoechlin subconsciously grabbing his sweatpants briefly, before spotting him again. “Yeah. What line got me good? Something about the 'salty sweat slowly dripping down Derek's deadly midsection as Stiles pumps in time with his thrusts',” he ends the line with a grunt as he holsters the barbell and swaps out with Tyler.

As Hoechlin hits the bench, a tent was fighting his pants, held firmly by what was shaped like a jockstrap underneath. Dylan smirks to himself, as he adjusts his own protuberance to spot Tyler for his last set.

“And-,” Hoechlin continued. “-who wrote this fanfic?” Hoechlin grunts, eyeing Dylan's pants more than the ceiling. “Someone I know?”

“Maybe,” Dylan smirks.

“Someone close?,” Tyler smiles licking his lips.

“Closer than you think,” Dylan's voice rugged and whispered. He leans in as Tyler starts to rack the last barbell.

“You mean-”

“Why yes, Der-bear. Yes,” Dylan whispers to Tyler's lips.

“I wrote it for you, didn't I?,” Tyler whispers smiling.

“And, it was amazing,” Stiles replied, kissing him gently.

Tyler grabbed Dylan's face as they kissed Spiderman style, tongues searching each other softly in the private gym. It was late and no one was there. No one can interrupt this one kiss that linked them both, at the brink of exhaustion.

And though, muscles were sore and breath was gone, they drove different paths to the same home to explore that fantasy world. How many fanfics can they recreate in one night?

Well, Tyler and Dylan agreed- they both WERE training for endurance at the gym. Guess how long they can endure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to Hoechlin's "move to do movies". I shall not comment more on the painful matter. Nor point fingers. The cycle never ends. I'll just weep in my corner.


	3. Hanging Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little shenanigans bring back fond memories and show some insecurities.

Tyler wakes up at around 9:30 pm from a phone call. He just got off a scene at around 3 pm for a day scene, then is due back around 11 for another night scene. He was hoping for at least 6 hours of sleep, but with hair and make-up finishing around 4, and city traffic, he was woefully under rested and very cranky.

Wiping the sleep from his face, he sees who's calling, and decides to answer anyway. “Hey, Stiles, what's up?”

“Tyler, I keep on telling you to call me Dylan. What if people hear you?”

“I'm at home so it's safe. Why are you calling on your day off? I really need some sleep, cause I'm in between scenes so-”

“It's kind of an emergency, Der-bear,” the caller supplies.

“Then why are you calling me, instead of 911?”

Tyler hears a sigh over the phone. 

“Cause it's embarrassing, and I don't want the news to find out. Plus my dad will kill me if he finds out what I did to the place. And Posey is in an interview, so he's busy. Not to mention, you're the only other person who has a key to my place so..,” Dylan motormouths in reply.

Tyler sighs and grabs for the key hanging on a necklace around his neck. The key is shaded like a wolf, with the teeth of the keys white like fangs. The paint was worn in places from use. 

It was a part three gift on their second secret anniversary. Even though they're in separate beds, sleeping with the key made him feel like he's home. Like they belong to one other, now and forever, rings be damned when keys abound.

“Do I need to bring anything?,” Tyler asks, standing up and grabbing clothes from his bedside drawer.

“Bring some scissors. Or garden shears,” he answers ominously. “And please, for the love of all that is holy and sexy, leave your phone in the car, and your humor at the front door.”

Tyler just rolls his eyes. “I'll get the med kit out too. See you in five.”

“Hurry! I gotta pee soooooo badly!,” Dylan says hanging up.

* * *

Tyler walks in the door, his hood and shades on, hiding from the paparazzi. He's carrying the garden shears he just purchased from the hardware store down the road, getting to them right before closing.

“Stiles?,” he shouts into the empty apartment. “Where are you?”

“Derek? Is that you?,” a voice answers from the house. “I'm in the Stiles Cave!”

Tyler rolls his eyes. The guest/third bedroom, turned into the game room, was dubbed the Stiles Cave after the Batman rumor years ago. He takes off the hoodie and drops his keys in the bowl by the door. 

He smiles at the picture frame by the bowl every time he sees it. Dylan caught a picture of Tyler while he wasn't looking. He was smiling and blushing from a fanfic he was reading of Dylan's laptop. He as wearing Dylan's stud muffin shirt and favorite hoodie, sizes too small but loving the feeling of it.  
Dylan sees this picture every time he leaves the apartment. It gives Tyler butterflies thinking about it.

 

He trudges up the stairs in the two floor apartment and walks towards the room.

Hearing the footsteps, Dylan screams out. “Okay, before you come in here, promise me you won't laugh.”

Tyler groans. “I promise,” he replies.

“And tell me that you left your phone in the car,” Dylan adds.

Tyler checks his pockets. His phone is there. But, he doesn't need to tell Dylan the truth. “My phone is in the car. Can I come in now?”

“Don't laugh,” Dylan says, defeated.

* * *

All the strength in the world could not prepare Tyler for what he saw in the Stiles Cave.  
His cheeks were shaking from not laughing, but his eyes could show the truth.

Dylan was stuck upside down, hung by pants legs locked from bungee cords and a hammock. Dylan's abs were showing, as his shirt was hanging from his neck. His face was turning red from the blood rushing to his head. His hands were covering his face from embarassment.

“You better not be laughing,” Dylan demands, muffled by his hands.

“Gi-eeep cough Gimme a moment,” Tyler stumbles. He decidedly does not laugh, but stares at the walls behind him for strength. He turns around and Dylan is spinning slowly like a weird rotisserie. 

Taking a deep breath, he decides to ask,” Do you want to tell me what is going on, Stiles?”

“It's Dylan, TY-ler,” the hanging man answers, arms akimbo. The threat of the stance is lost from the spinning and the shirt and the red in the poor thing's face. “I'll tell you while you're letting me down from here.”

Tyler starts unwrapping the garden shears as Dylan tries to crunch his way up to his ankles. Tyler decides it's time for revenge and pulls out his phone.

“Revenge says what?,” Tyler says quickly.

“What?,” Dylan asks, as he looks toward Tyler. And the audible click and flash fills the room. Tyler smiles the most winning of smiles at his phone, and soon emails it to himself. 

“Nooooo!,” Dylan screams. “Delete it! Please please please PLEASE!,” he pleads.

“Leave it, Stiles. I won't show anyone, I promise. Not even Posey or Keahu. Well.... Maybe Colton or Ian though,” he teases.

“Nooooooooooooo! No. no. no. no. nooooo,” Dylan throws his arms in a tantrum. Which again, does not work when you're swinging around upside down.

Tyler laughs as he puts away his phone and draws in the air, figuring out where to cut first. He grabs some pillows and puts them on the floor under the poor soul's head. He starts snipping away in silence as Dylan just hides in his hands in humiliation.

“Do you want to tell me what brought this on? I have call time in 30 minutes...,” Tyler asks.

“Mmmhmm hrrmmurhrmm,” Dylan mumbles.

“I'm sorry, I can't understand you.”

“I was testing myself,” Dylan answered.

“Testing yourself for what?”

“You know, Derek... for the rumors...,” Dylan answered slowly.

Tyler just gives him a look. “You need to be more specific, Stiles. We have more rumors going on between us than the whole Kardashian family.”

“The uhh... the Spider.. man rumors...”

Tyler laughs to himself as he continues to cut off strings. “So the extra gym sessions? The parkour lessons? And this contraption?”

“I just, you know.... I really want this to happen...”

“You said nothing was said legally yet.”

“I know. But think of it!,” Dylan explains his arms more animated now than before. “I can be Spiderman! And you can get the next superhero role. And the superhero spandex sex! And the double entendres! And the fanfics! And the inside jokes! And the fans, oh god the fans! Did I mention the fanfics?”

Tyler just shakes his head. “You really are a little kid sometimes.”

“I just really want this to happen, Der. I really do.”

“I think it's my turn to give you a reality check, Dylan.”

“What?”

“You don't need to be Spiderman. You're already super in my books,” Derek offers trying not to blush. And failing.

“Oh. My. God. I have such an emotional boner for you right now.”

“... And you just ruined the moment. Typical Stiles.” He shakes his head, and pauses to give him a soft and sweet kiss.

“That Spiderman kiss good enough for you?,” Tyler offers.

“Yes. No... I dunno.”

Tyler starts unraveling some knots. Dylan is just hanging there, arms lolling to the floor.

“...I can practically hear you thinking, Dylan. Talk to me,” Hoechlin said.

“I really am serious,” Dylan answers. “I want to be Spiderman. It's... It's something Stiles would want. It's something the fans want. Something I really want.”

“...Go on.” 

Dylan sighs. “Come on, Derek. Be honest with me. Where do you see me in five years? Ten?”

“I can't see the future, Stiles. Or Dylan.”

Dylan sighs again. “I want to be long-lasting, Derek. Everyone's doing superheroes. I'm just the sidekick. Always the sidekick.”

“What are you talking about? Maze Runner was amazing. You were front and center!”

“I know Derek, I know. But, the series has how many books? I dunno. I just want more.”

Tyler sighs. He knows that feeling all too well. All actors feel the same- that iconic moment from stardom to super stardom. But, he scoffs how Dylan and Stiles are so similar. They never see how strong they are, how strong they have always been. 

“I'm almost done here. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Dylan crunches up and grabs the hammock he was hanging from. Tyler snips the last cord. The bungee cords unravel around his legs and soon Dylan's hanging off the hammock. The netting soon gives way and he lands on the pillows. He's a little wobbly and lands into Tyler's arms.

“You okay?,” Tyler asks.

“Just a little light-headed.”

“You were amazing. You never keep me bored.”

Dylan just hugs Tyler tighter. “Thanks for saving me, Der-bear.”

“I'm always here for you, Stiles. And if you want, I'll help you train. Maybe after this scene?,”

Dylan shakes his head. “My scene's after yours. How about before dinner tomorrow night?”

“Same place?”

“Sure. I'll call in a reservation.”

“I gotta go now. See you tomorrow?”

“Can't wait, Sourwolf,” Dylan promises.

Dylan walks Tyler down the stairs to the door. 

“Hey,” Tyler calls back as he reaches the door. “You know I love you, right?,” he answers with a smile. 

“I love you too, Tyler. Break a leg for me, okay?”

“For you, I'd break two,” Tyler answers with a smile, as he walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That should be the last chapter. Unless another rumor pops up. Please comment if you like it!


	4. Batter Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rumor mill is spouting rumors of a Spiderman... but it's not Dylan O'Brien?
> 
> Tyler rushes over to the batting cages when he finds out that Dylan is venting.  
> Is it gonna be a long night?

Tyler sighs as he drives up and parks next to a familiar vehicle. He locks the car and hunches up his shoulders in his large jacket, hoping no one snaps his photo. Paparazzi love this place. And with the ice so thin, he and Dylan and drown in the media at any moment.

 

He walks up to batting cage 24 and frowns. The amount of sweat on the occupant's shirt means that he has been here at least an hour.

 

He runs to a vending machine to get 3 drinks. Once this set of ten finished, he hollers over, “Mind if I steal you for a moment, sir?”

 

“Go away,” the man replies, obviously low on breath. The batter puts another set of quarters in to start the next round. The machine dings as the light turns green.

 

Dylan O'Brien takes his stance once again and swings hard. The baseball flies high into the net. Seconds later, he swings again and misses. And soon, another miss follows.

 

“I really can't do that,” the spectator finally replies. “I know a dozen people that would kill me if you die of dehydration.”

 

Another miss. Dylan curses under his breath.

 

“I said go away.”

 

“I'm not leaving here without you, Stiles,” Tyler says. And as soon as he says that, Dylan misses again.

 

“Fuck, fuck FUCK FUCK God damn fuck!,” Dylan screams, swinging the bat around in anger. He soon decided to just hit the ground in anger.

 

The young athlete is seething, staring at the man outside. The ball that whizzes past is ignored.

“You fucking made me miss!,” Dylan screams.

 

Dylan grabs the chainlink face. “I said just leave me!”

 

“You missed because you've been aiming too high,” Tyler offers. His past sports experience is coming handy. “It's probably the fatigue.”

 

“Yeah, well I've been doing that far too long, aiming too God damn high,” Dylan says, giving up angrily, and moving back into position. He swings again and misses once more.

 

The batter is blinking more often now. He can barely see. Sweat is pouring by his eyes. Or maybe it's tears. It could be both.

 

The next ball was ignored once more, as he wipes the moisture away with his damp sleeve.

 

He readies his last swing for the set-

To no avail. Another one was lost.

1 hit, 5 misses, 4 ignored.

 

“Please just drink something,” Tyler pleads, offering a sports drink. He knew it was gonna be difficult. It was always a difficult time when Dylan would go here by himself to vent.

 

Dylan sighs and exits the cage, and grabs the drink. Downing it completely. He grabs the bottle water he was offered next. He drinks half of it, and splashes the rest on his face.

“I needed more quarters anyway.” He says walking to the change machine.

 

Tyler just walks next to him, silent and patient. He knows not to ask if they “need to talk.”

Just like Stiles, Dylan can't keep his words bottled up anyway.

 

Minutes pass,and a few more sets later, Dylan leaves his cage out of breath and out of steam.

“Ben and Jerry's? Dairy Queen?,” Tyler offers.  
  
“Uh, no. All you can eat sushi, then bowls of green tea, plum, and strawberry ice cream,” Dylan announces. “Your car or mine?”

 

“You safe to drive?”

 

“Your car then,” Dylan concedes.

 

Tyler smiles at that. He knows the drill. Dylan cranks out his mp3 player and headphones for the entire car ride. Air guitars and drum solos were present half the way. The second half, Dylan surprised Tyler by grabbing his non-driving hand for the remainder of the trip.

 

A whole meal later, and surprisingly no paparazzi ambushes so far, Dylan rubs his belly with a lazy frown.

 

“Uuuuuugh. Food baby...,” he groans. He burps loudly, laughs at himself, and smiles at Tyler. Then just like that, he catches himself, frowns, frets, then pouts once more. Twelve emotions on his face in ten seconds flat.

 

“I'm a douchebag,” Dylan declares.

 

“No, you're not,” Tyler detracts.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“Well, maybe,” Tyler taunts instead, with a shit eating grin into his bowl of ice cream. Butter pecan if you're curious.

 

Dylan sighs and plays with his spoon.

 

“...Ready to talk?,” Tyler asks, moments later.

 

Stiles nods. “Freaking Butterfield...,” he mumbles.

 

“Whut?,” Tyler asks.

 

“Butterfield. Asa Butterfield,” Dylan explains. “The rumor mill is saying that he's getting Spiderman. I'm not even in the top three.”

 

Tyler sighs. _Audition blues,_ he muses. That is something he can relate with.

 

“It's still in talks, Stiles. Not yet in stone.”

 

“But-”

 

Tyler raises his hand. “And even if it was, from what I've read, the movie is set to be throughout all 4 years of high school. HIGH SCHOOL, Stiles. You'll be playing a typecast teenager role AGAIN. “

 

“But, it's SPIDERMAN, Der...,” Dylan whines, completely ignoring that they're calling each other their character's names.

 

“I know, Stiles. I know,” Tyler concedes. “Something else will give. We can't fall in love with a role before we even get it. We're actors in the Entertainment Age. It'll be too painful.”

 

Dylan sighs, and stares down at his plates. “I know it's stupid,” he says defeatedly. “I just- The training, the ropes courses, the pumping iron for the superhero body- it feels like a waste!”

 

“That body is never a waste, Stiles,” Tyler responds, overtly checking him out head to toe with a cheeky grin.

 

Dylan tries to fight the blush as he continues. “ I worked so HARD for this, Der- Tyler...”

 

“There's more superhero movies, Dylan,” Tyler sincerely consoles. He takes one of Dylan's hands in his. “Your time will come, okay?” As he plants a small chaste kiss on the hand. In public.

 

Dylan takes his hand away and looks around immediately. He wonders if anyone saw.

“Tyler! Be careful! PDA ix-nay, okay?!”

 

Tyler smiles back. “Will you come home with me tonight? Pretty please?”

 

Stiles pretends to mull it over before he finally smiles. “I'd love that. Always will, Sourwolf”

They paid in cash with a healthy tip, and headed to the car.

 

“Can't wait to get home and have angry sex with you,” Dylan declares, rubbing his hands greedily in anticipation.

 

“Hmm, that'll be fun. I always get turned on when I see you in the batting cages,” Tyler promises. “Lemme guess one thing though: you pick batting cage 24 since it's Stiles' jersey number, isn't it?”

 

“Yup!,” Dylan smiles. “And coincidentally, it goes out at my favorite speed of pitches too!”

 

“Well, seeing you as a batter is always a welcome sight,” Tyler says, taking Dylan's left hand as they pull off the parking lot. “I just wonder...”

 

“Wonder what?”

 

Tyler leans over and whispers breathily into Dylan's ear. “Since you've played batter earlier, will you play pitcher or catcher tonight?” Then he nips at his earbud seductively, before focusing back on driving.

 

“Unf,” Stiles moans and smiles, ready to go home. “Well, there are 9 innings in a game. We can pitch and catch as many times as we want.”

 

And go home they did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once the rumor mill stops, then this set of ficlets will end.
> 
> Oh and had to ground myself from fanfictions midsemester since I failed a test. I should be able to update my other fics soon enough. Yay!
> 
> Update: I just fixed grammar. No updates yet. 
> 
> Unless you find a rumor you'd like me to write. Comment below!


	5. Beards and Closets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone’s planning to come out the closet. And Tyler hates doing dishes, but he loves Dylan more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> This was sitting in my hard drive since January. This is set sometime last year before Charlie Carver and Colton Haynes officially come out.
> 
> My timeline may be wonky. Had to do some wiki research for timelines of breakups and film schedules and stuff. I fixed the grammar and added stupid cheesy stuff, since I needed a break from my other fic: [Groundhog Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3094406/chapters/6703742).
> 
> Lastly, these are fictional ramblings. I would like to point out that we shouldn't pester the hotness of both Dylan and Tyler (and everyone else). I'll just continue imagining their perfect possible lives in my life. Swoons.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s 8 pm on a Thursday; it’s one of their usual date nights.

Tyler was fixing dinner (chicken pesto pasta with whole wheat bowties and a nice salad) while Dylan is reading his script for the the Scorch Trials. The latter was murmuring to himself the entire time. His face kept making all sorts of expressions.

“Whoo-yeah!,” he screams at one point. “I get some more bad-ass fight scenes!! It’s gonna be off the chizz-ain!!”

Tyler just chuckles to himself. He just finished draining the pasta, and is letting the sauce breathe. He takes a long moment to take out various tupperware containers and measuring cups. This should last them 8 portioned meals a piece.

“Are we going to the gym after dinner?,” Tyler asks Dylan as an afterthought. “I should shower if we do. I don’t want to smell like basil in the gym.”

“hmm… we should... ,” Dylan ponders. “I should check with my trainer. I did chest and tris earlier. I might be going overboard if I do something else tonight.”

They start discussing what their training regimen is like over the next couple of weeks, how their nutritionists are switching up their macros, and stupid stuff their agents want them to do. It was the life of a celebrity behind doors, but it’s just a normal night for both of them.

“Is Brittany gonna join us for dinner tonight?,” Dylan asks.

“No, she’s still with her voice coach. She needs more prep work for the next musical she’s in.”

“God, I’d love to have a voice coach. I can’t sing as well as I’d want to.”

“I can make you sing out loud after dinner if you want,” Tyler teases.

“Pfft, wow,” Dylan concedes. “I barely heard the sexual innuendo on that one. Good job.  
It depends. Feeling like topping or bottoming today?”

“Hmm…” Tyler walks over to the couch. He crawls over on top of Dylan, caging him into the soft cushions below. He takes away the script from Dylan’s hand before kissing him up the neck onto his soft lips. Tyler nibbles on Dylan’s lips in between his soft kisses. And after an open invitation from Dylan’s tongue, they make out the next few minutes away.

“I just want to taste your lips tonight,” Tyler breathes in between kisses. “Anything more will be a bonus. I just love this moment right now, us being here.”

“Hmm, yeah, Derek,” Dylan purrs. “Growl for me and I’ll do anything for you.”

Tyler raises his eyebrow before devouring Dylan’s neck, purring and growling desperately.  
Dylan raises his back grinding into Tyler’s waiting torso. The ripple of his abs on his desperate erection sends a shiver up his spine.

Both of them were hot and bothered with their kisses, when Tyler finally answers with a tease.  
“...You’ll do anything?”

“Anything for you, Der-bear...”

“Hmm.. foreplay in character, Stiles? _You must really love me…_ ,” Tyler whispers that last part into Dylan’s ear, before nipping his earlobe playfully.

“I do, I do, I do, Derek… **oh God,** I love you so much… Yes, I'd do anything... just keep... unf... ,” Dylan groans, hot and bothered.

  
  


Tyler had a teasing smirk on; his canines were displayed like a wolf cornering his prey. “...You love me enough to do the dishes after dinner?”

“What?!,” Dylan was shocked out of their moment. He grabs his script and starts hitting Tyler on the arm, laughing. “Hohoho, you are the **devil** , Derek.”

Dylan fans his fingers on his chest and starts batting his eyes. He continues on in a feminine voice, “Taking advantage of a poor Southern belle like me? Heavens, what will my poor dying father do if he hears one of my gentlemen callers deflowering me on a night out?”

Without a hesitation, Tyler replies with a deep Southern drawl. “If I may say so, ma’am, not even the Pope can make your flower as pure as you intend it to be.”

“Well, I never!!,” Stiles pretends to be shocked, before he falls into a fit of giggles. He kisses the poor old sod that is still caging him in his mighty arms.

Tyler is grinning through the kiss. He then attacks Dylan with tickles, while rubbing his stubble against Dylan’s neck. The battle of comedy lasts another minute before Dylan calls uncle.

“Let’s eat! I could eat the whole pot, I’m so hungry,” Dylan declares. 

“Your macros would be ruined, but I won’t tell your nutritionist,” Tyler supports. “Well, as long as you do the dishes.”

“No, no, I’ll behave,” Dylan concedes. “I don’t know if the director will want a shirtless scene. I’d hate to disappoint the fans.”

“Hmmm… the thing the fans love about you are your freckles and that treasure trail. Don’t shave; everyone will still drool.”

Dylan grumbles as he starts measuring his plate of food. He frowns on his portion size, but shrugs. Every artist sacrifices for that craft. It’s such a shame he has to sacrifice greasy burgers and curly fries though.

“I can’t wait for my first cheat day after filming. I’m gonna eat EVERYTHING.”

“Isn’t filming gonna last a few months?,” Tyler asks.

“Don’t remind me. Let the dreamer dream.”

* * *

During dinner, they start talking about sports. (Apparently, it's a topic that fascinates a lot of people.) Their favorite teams are not doing so well, but their favorite players are getting their play time so that’s good. They drone on and on until both their phones beep at the same time.

As slaves of modern technology, they both check their phones to see a text from one of the Carver twins.  
‘Party at my place this weekend. I plan to come out in an upcoming interview. Want to celebrate/need support. Pls pls pls come!!’

It takes the both of them a while to read and absorb everything. The silence was definitely palpable.

“Wow,” Dylan finally says.

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees.

Another awkward silence follows.

“Will you be free?,” Tyler asks.

“Will YOU be free?,” Dylan counters.

“You know I don’t have any projects right now,” Tyler admits.

“You don’t have one *so far*,” Dylan supports. “Don’t you have Undrafted and Everybody Wants It coming out soon?”

“It’s Everybody Wants Some, and release has been pushed back to next year.”

“Any auditions coming up then?”

“Dylan, look, getting off track here. Are you free this weekend or not?”

“Fine, but we’ll get back to your loss of acting self-esteem later. I have workouts on Saturday that I can probably push earlier if need be. Which ruins grocery plans for Saturday morning.”

“But do you want to go?,” Tyler asks.

“I do. Definitely! I mean, it’s Charlie we’re talking about. It’s always a fun time with the Carver twins.”

  
  


“I need to ask Brittany if we can swing by. I don’t know her plans yet,” Tyler adds as an afterthought.

“Will she be okay coming to the party though?”

“She should be. Wait- why wouldn’t she be?,” Tyler asks Dylan.

“I don’t know. I mean… I don’t know.”

It’s back to silence. Their leftover food is starting to get cold.

“Is she still… okay with us?,” Dylan asks.

“Come on, Dylan,” Tyler whines. “Brittany has been nice enough to be a cover for both of us.”

“You mean a beard,” Dylan corrects.

“ _Cover_ , Dylan. She hates being called a beard,” Tyler corrects him in turn. “She’s been a friend of mine for years and nothing won’t ever change that. She supports us; I promise.”

“I just… hate sharing you sometimes,” Dylan blurts out.

“Dylan, _Stiles_ \- How many times do I have to tell you? You have me. It’s a forever thing with us.” Tyler takes Dylan’s hand across the table. “Your Stiles insecurity needs to stop. I love you. I love everything about you. I love that you are perfect for me. I love all the freckles that line your body, especially those that only I get to see.

Don’t ever think you are getting rid of me.” 

Tyler squeezes Dylan’s hand. Dylan squeezes back.  
“I should apologize to Brittany,” Dylan decides.

“Yeah, you should,” Tyler agrees with his signature smile.

 

Dylan turns somber, and replies seriously. “I love you, Derek.”

Tyler replies. “I love you more, Stiles…. Especially if you do the dishes.”  
Dylan chuckles before he agrees. They continue eating their food.

* * *

Both of them grimace as they are about to dig into their salad. It’s not much of a dessert, but there are raspberries in there so maybe it will be enough for them.  
(Surprise surprise- it’s not.)

Halfway through their rabbit food, Tyler blurts out one more thing that’s running through his mind. “Britanny and I are thinking about ending it- our public relationship.”

“What?,” Dylan asks surprised. “You don’t have to do that for us! I’m over it, I promise! That was just a small breakdown!”

“No, it’s been a long time coming between me and Britanny. Kissing her in public is just… weird. Especially since her and I both know who I’d rather be kissing.”

“Just don’t do it for my sake, okay? I’d hate to fake break Britanny’s heart.”

“It’s okay, I promise.”

“...Why’d you bring that up now though?,” Dylan asks after a moment.

Tyler was taking his time to respond. Both of them were dancing around the subject. But someone just has to say it.

In the end, Tyler gladly took the plunge. “Do you want to publicly come out with me?”

Dylan sighs. His heart is breaking every time they discuss this topic.  
But it’s much heavier now, especially with Charlie’s brave decision.  
Because now, it is definitely an actual legitimate option.

  
  


“Derek, I-I love you… but is this like something you want to do for us, or a heat of the moment thing?”

“What do you mean?”

  


“You, me, Keahu, Posey, Colton, JR, and Ian, all of us can have a coming out interview bonanza, but is that really something ***WE*** want or need to do?,” Dylan asks.

Tyler braces himself for the upcoming Dylan rant.

“I love you, Der-bear I really do. I’d shout it to the moon if I could, I want to. But is it really right?

I mean, number one, this is Charlie’s time to come out. We can **NOT** steal his thunder by taking ours now, too. He will need our support. 

Number two, I’d love to come out with you, but you have to remember we’re **actors** , Derek. We’ve been dreaming of making it big time for years. We need some big blockbuster under our belt before we should risk all of our possible stable income, just for our personal lives to be raped and taken away by the paparazzi. 

I still don’t know how big Scorch Trial is gonna be, and if we’re gonna do so well that we’ll finish the trials. And Everybody Wants Some has been pushed back how long now? We can’t have it all **YET** , Derek.

I want it all. Believe me. I want to be able to go to parks with you. See a baseball game and be caught in the kiss cam. But the world isn’t ready yet. Our careers aren’t ready yet. I can’t just stop being an actor for us to happen, Derek.

Unless, that’s what you want. Is that what you want? I mean, if it is, I really don’t know how to take-”

  


Tyler puts his finger over Dylan’s mouth to shut him up. Dylan got to let his frustrations out, now Tyler knows how to reply.

“I’ll come out with you, if or when you want me to,” Tyler starts calmly. “I am in no rush. I just wanted to know if you were. I’d ask you every week if you want to, just for you to know that I am okay with whatever decision we make together.

Being together in secret forever will suck. But I will be okay with it, since I’ll be with you and only you.

No, coming out is not mandatory. The public can fanfic all they want. As long as we’re okay, then I am satisfied.

As far as acting, my career hasn’t been doing too well so I really-”

  


“You’ll be okay, Derek just-,” Dylan interrupts.

Tyler stops him again. “Okay, I’ll stop bashing my own mediocre career so just-”

“It’s NOT mediocre!,” Dylan defends him.

  


“Okay, it’s not mediocre, jeez. 

I’m saying. *sigh* I will do anything for you, Stiles Stilinski, a.k.a. Dylan O’Brien. You have me now, forever, and til death do us part if you’d have me. Privately or publicly, I care not. As long as the end of the day, I can hear your voice, see you smile, and know that you love me and I can love you back, then all the Oscars be damned. 

I will be happy just being. 

With. 

You.”

  


Tyler finally takes down his finger, so Dylan can finally talk if he wants to. Dylan has a tear trying to escape from his eyes. 

“That was very sweet, Derek Hale, a.k.a. Tyler Hoechlin. I love you, too. So much. More than I love curly fries, more than I hate rabbit food. You make me so happy. You would be a perfect dad for our imaginary future children, Isabelle Anastasia and Brett Everett. You cut the crusts off my sandwiches, and only remember to put creamy peanut butter on mine instead of your stupid chunky crap.

And even though I ramble and go non-stop about every stupid thing, you ramble along with me. Wow, we could write a million wedding vows and it will never be enough, will it?

Because, for all the words I can say, all the faces I can make while saying them, all of them could never be enough to express how much I love you.”

“Despite me hating doing dishes?,” Tyler asks.

“Oh God, will you stop it with the dishes already? I am trying to be sweet here.”

“I know. Dork.”

“Knucklehead.”

“Love you, Stiles.”

“Love you, Der-bear.”

* * *

After they partition the leftover food and kiss away all the bad feelings, Dylan starts the dishes. Tyler just hugs him from behind the entire time. Both of them were swaying to a silent beat, just happy that they are in love after being together for so long.

Tyler helps Dylan dry the dishes and put them away though. Cleaning up turns into tickling and foreplay, and they are back to making out on the couch.

Before both of them could take it into the bedroom, both of their phone clang with another message.

It was from Charlie.  
‘Scratch taht. My agnet said no and stoppd the interview. No party this weekedn”

 

Both of them shared a look after quickly reading the text. 

“Aw, hell no,” Dylan exclaims. “Charlie needs some friends and alcohol, stat.  
Your car or mine?”

“I’d say both to keep the secrecy, but Charlie needs us now. So yours, since we’re here,” Tyler says, while grabbing his wallet and putting on his shirt.

Both of them shoot Charlie a text in support, saying they’re on the way. They drink the night away, while watching stupid sports movies with Charlie because they are awesome friends.

* * *

Epilogue:  
Months later, Charlie Carver says screw it and comes out on Instagram. His twin brother Max loves him and supports him. It was a big day on the twitterverse. But, it doesn’t matter.

Because Charlie had support from his friends, and that’s all that matters. He was free, he was happy, and he was loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> I have one more chapter lined up (the Superman one of course) but I am holding off until after I see how it goes on screen. 
> 
> I really hope Tyler gets a lot of screen time!!  
> His filmography list in Wikipedia looks so scarce and I feel bad for him. T_T  
> I hope the acting gods give him more roles!!


End file.
